WHEREIN, QUITTING ROME, HE CRAVES ONLY LAURA'S PITY, ONLY COLONNA'S CONTINUED PROSPERITY

From impious Babylon, where all shame is dead,
All goodness banished to extremest bounds,
Nurse of black errors, lair of brutish hounds,
I, too, in hope of longer life have fled.
Here, and alone, where Love goes garlanded
I follow, weaving flowers and fervent sounds,
And hold communion with myself in rounds
Of thought and hope — the exile's only bread.
Not fortune nor the multitude I need,
Nor personal esteem nor worldly ease,

WHEREIN THE VERIEST GLIMPSE OF VAUCLUSE BANISHES FROM MEMORY ALL THE DANGERS OF HIS JOURNEY

O my Sennuccio, I but half live here
(Were I but wholly hers and you content!)
Where out of tempest my true course I bent,
When suddenly the clouds and winds drew near.
I would reveal, would make this matter clear:
Why I dread not the fiery firmament
And why unmitigated, far from spent,
As fierce as ever my old wounds appear.
When first I reached Love's realm, when first I saw
Where Laura in her glory walked alive,

WHEREIN HE CONFIDES TO HIS FRIEND HIS LADY'S VARIABLENESS AND HIS DESPAIR

To you, Sennuccio, would I declare
What sad uncertainties, what griefs I find:
I flame — and though to Laura's moods resigned,
In me there is no changing anywhere.
First all humility, then here and there;
Now meek, now haughty; cruel now, now kind;
Soft as a brooding dove she speaks her mind;
Then flash her eyes with lights that flay the air.
Here would she sweetly sing, there sit awhile;
Here press her step, and there her step reprove;

WHEREIN HER SALUTATION DRIVES ALL ELSE FROM HIS MIND

She in whose face is shown my stricken heart,
As with Love's reveries I sat alone,
Glittered before me: O fire in flesh and bone!
I rose, with forehead pale and lips apart.
Who, having seen me stare and felt me start,
Addressed toward me such a look soft-blown
As in Jove's fiercest frenzy might unthrone
His wrath and from his fingers tear the dart.
I trembled; she moved on in her sweet way,
Shedding a grace and speaking words whose sound,
Like her soft eyes, turned all my soul around.

WHEREIN HE IS DAZED BY THE UNEXPECTED
PRESENCE OF HIS LADY

As Love in his accustomed quarters plied
His wiles, so I, aroused to threats of war,
Foreseeing all, guarding this cliff, that shore,
On the old armour of old thoughts relied;
Turning, I saw a shadow at my side
Cast by the sun, whose shape her beauty wore —
Hers, by my soul! (whom angels must adore,
Angels and all the heavenly host beside!)
And to my heart I whispered, why, then, fear?
But hardly had I dared the thought when bright

WHEREIN HIS OPPRESSED HEART FINDS SOME LIBERTY IN RECALLING THE EYES AND WORDS OF LAURA

Alas, how Love incessantly persists!
All day, all night, a thousand times I turn
Whither I best may see those blue eyes burn
Which lured my heart to Love's immortal trysts.
Then am I quieted, and through my wrists
The blood beats softly, while the hours discern
Her eyes fixed calmly in my mind: I spurn
All else, all else nor matters nor exists.
The fragrant air which her angelic ways
Waft with each thought of hers, each liquid phrase,

WHEREIN HE APOSTROPHIZES THE SPOT WHERE LAURA FIRST SALUIED HIM

Ah, blessedest plot of earth! In this dear space
Love first observed my lovely Lady bend
Her golden head, and pause, and condescend
To smile on me and fill the air with grace.
The rigorous image Time shall quite efface
From triple-tortured adamant — but rend
That smile from my soul's centre, God forfend!
That smile so cherished in its holy place!
As often as I visit this proud shrine
I shall search out the moth-prints of her feet
With ecstasy half-human, half-divine!

THE FIFTEENTH YEAR FINDS HER EYES MORE FATAL THAN AT FIRST

No help this way! Ah, no escape that way!
Here burn her eyes, her eyes flame torches there:
Alas! too much of tyranny will tear
My foolish heart to pieces for its prey;
No quarter there! No flight! Love's latest ray,
Which night and morning haunts me everywhere,
Glows with such fury in this fifteenth year,
That it outdazzles passion's earlier day.
So far, so wide her eyes spread images
That, turn whichever way, I always see
Hers, or some sister-lights that drew from these.

TO PANDOLFO MALATESTA, LORD OF RIMINI

The seed of virtue shed its blossom deep
Within thy heart when Love found lodging there;
And like the flower, the fruit is also fair:
The hopes I cherished long, I richly reap.
Wherefore my spirit into song must leap
To deck with praise the mighty name you bear:
For proudest marble never can declare
More than the flesh that withers in a sleep.
Think you Marcellus or the purple name
Of Caesar, Paulus, Scipio spring to flame
By anvil's heat or hammer's nervous thrust?

TO STEFANO COLONNA, EXHORING HIM TO PURSUE HIS VICTORY OVER THE ORSINI (ORSA — SHE-BEAR)

Hannibal conquered often, yet he knew
Never the fruits of victory to obtain:
Wherefore, dear lord, be wise, lest any gain
A like advantage over yours and you.
Still in their cave the she-bear and her crew,
Having in May rough pasture found again,
With frenzy gnash their teeth and nails of pain
And the hot scent of vengeance fast pursue.
While this new wrath disheartens and appalls,
Sheathe not your honoured and so recent sword,